


A Bit Rubbish

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:25:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naboo finally gets what he wants for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Fuck_ , Naboo thinks wearily, leaning against the kitchen table and surveying the wreckage of his once cosy flat. _Why the fuck did I say that we’d throw a Christmas party this year? I should have just bullied Howard into cooking turkey for the four of us as usual. Not let Vince invite half of Camden and then gone mad myself and invited the entire Board of Shamen because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn’t born yesterday. I should’ve known._

There is a groan and a loud snore from the sofa.

_Yeah, and I know you did a good job getting rid of the last few paralytics, Bollo, but if you don’t get your act together with the clearing-up tomorrow, I’ll take back what I said about not getting an upgraded familiar. This place is a disaster zone. I don’t even know where to start._

Mechanically, Naboo picks up an empty crisp packet from the table, balls it up and chucks it at the bin.

 _See that? Missed. Story of my Christmas. Story of my fuckin’ life. Dunno why I bother. He snorts. Saboo would say that a lot of the time I don’t. He was on good form tonight, hardly acknowledged my existence except to insult me but why change the habit of a lifetime? And why_ – he kicks irritably at the crumpled packet, knocking it under the worktop – _why did he have to look so fuckin’ hot in that red jumpsuit and Santa hat? That’s Vince’s job, mind you he was rockin’ the sparkly angel look and I didn’t see Howard complaining…_

He glances along the passageway; the light under Vince’s bedroom door has gone out and all is quiet.

 _All right for some. I know, I shouldn’t begrudge them, they are sort-of my friends I suppose and we’ve been through a lot together, why shouldn’t they get what they want for Christmas?_ He sighs. _C’m’on, Naboo, you plum, it could be worse. You're Naboo, that's who, an' you're self-sufficient. You could be stuck with someone who argues with you the whole time. Like that bitch of a wife of Dennis’s. Honestly, she’s well fit but what else does he see in her? Beats me, always has. She’s never happy, can’t just take the D-Man as he is… well OK, he is pretty hopeless and he can’t take his eyes off a pretty pair of boobs in a tinsel basque, but she didn’t have to hit him quite so hard._

_Fuck, what was that?_

There’s a scrabbling noise on the roof, and a sudden thud.

_Burglars? Better wake Bollo – no, hang on a sec, that click, that’s the latch on the skylight, hear that often enough with those two goin’ out on the roof to snog, but they’re in bed so who was up there?_

‘Has – has everybody gone?’ a hoarse and hopeless voice asks from somewhere near the top of the stairs.

‘Most of ’em.’ Naboo detaches himself from the table and clicks the landing light on.

_Oh, the poor sod. I should’ve known._


	2. 'It was cold up there.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't burglars on the roof. But it wasn't Howard and Vince either.

‘Dennis? What the fuck were you doin’ on the roof?’

‘It was cold up there.’ Dennis is shivering, swaying on his feet; Naboo isn’t entirely sure he knows where he is or who’s talking to him.

‘You bin out there all that time?’ Naboo kicks himself for a thoughtless git. It must be two hours at least since the fight, and once the music was turned back on and the drink was flowing again, nobody had bothered to ask where the loser had gone.

‘Yes.’ Dennis’s robes are askew, his peacock feather headdress is bent and crumpled, and there is a blackening bruise on his cheekbone.

That wife of his is a bitch. A lean, lithe, snarling wild animal in a gold minidress. She really did hit him hard. Punishing her mate for his roving eye, and then taking her revenge…

‘Come on in an’ get warm, then.’ Naboo gestures towards the kitchen.

But Dennis seems to be having trouble focusing.

‘Cold is good. Clarifies the mind. Assists in the rethinking of basic principles and the suppression of the animal passions… Where is she?’

‘Gone back to yours.’

‘Very sensible.’

Naboo takes a deep breath, and adds the rest of it, the two words he really didn’t want to say:

‘With Saboo.’

Dennis gives an approving nod. ‘Well, that’s… very gallant of him. Methuselah is not much of a carpet driver at the best of times. And tonight wasn’t exactly the best of times. I’m sure he’ll see her safely home…’

Naboo can’t help shaking his head to try to shift the image still burned into his shaman-senses, the two figures tightly entwined, gold against red, Saboo’s big hands splayed across tanned skin...

The Head Shaman’s milky blue eyes grow suddenly sharp. They look at Naboo, and through him, and right to the core of him, and there is no hiding place.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ Dennis takes a wobbly step towards Naboo and reaches out, no doubt meaning to put a kindly hand on his shoulder, as he has done many times before. He staggers and almost falls; Naboo grabs him round the waist, and hangs on.

Dennis wraps his arms around Naboo, and pulls him into an awkward hug. ‘I didn’t know… I never saw. Never looked.’

Naboo's not quite sure what's happening here; he'd expected to be being sorry for Dennis, not the other way round. But it does feel good to be held by someone. Beggars can't be choosers... ‘Nuffink you could’ve done anyway,’ he mutters into the front of Dennis’s robes. 

‘Probably not.’ Dennis heaves a huge sigh. ‘I am somewhat inexpert in affairs of the heart. Otherwise I should not be here now, I should be tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa and…’

Naboo gives him a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Yeah, I know. We’re a bit rubbish at this, aren’t we?’

‘Naboo, I am grateful for your support. Yes, we are a bit rubbish at this. In fact we are a bit rubbish at many things. Sometimes I wonder whether the Board of Shamen itself is not actually a bit rubbish. Ditto the Head Shaman.’

‘Oi, Big D, don’t talk like that. We get enough of that bullshit from Tony fuckin’ Harrison.’ Naboo stares hard into his leader’s troubled face. ‘We need you, Dennis. You’re doin’ good. So what, the Board may be a bit rubbish, but that don’t mean it ain’t still got magic…’

Dennis turns his head away; looks up at the landing ceiling. Naboo looks too, and suddenly they are both very still.

Stuck to the lampshade by a curling piece of Sellotape, one single tatty sprig of mistletoe droops forlornly among the abandoned party streamers and tinsel, its leaves wilting and its three berries dull and shrivelled.

‘Bit rubbish,’ Naboo whispers.

Dennis looks down at him, and their eyes meet.

Naboo has no idea whether he is prompted by hope, or loneliness, or pity, or just sheer bloody-minded determination to wring some sort of fucking seasonal cheer out of this fucking rubbish Christmas; but he stands on tiptoe and reaches up to pull Dennis’s head down for a kiss, and as their mouths meet and they lose themselves in each other, he knows the magic’s still working.

Well enough to be going on with, anyway. They can worry about the rest in the morning.


	3. 'There is, um, a considerable residual odour of illicit substances in here.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis thaws out in Naboo's bedroom.

‘Can.. can I stay?’ Dennis’s voice is muffled in Naboo’s hair.

Naboo squeezes him tight. ‘Course.’ He’s reluctant to move, and break the spell; it’s nice just standing here all wrapped around someone else, someone he doesn’t have to explain or apologise or protest to, someone who understands…

His mouth still tingles from their kiss. The Head Shaman is a good kisser: not the most expert Naboo’s ever encountered in his long life, but passionate, sincere, generous. And heartbreakingly desperate for affection.

‘Naboo…’

Naboo loosens his hold a little, and looks up.

‘One more for the road?’ Dennis is smiling, a bit shyly, his lips all pink and full, and it’s impossible to resist kissing him again.

This time he doesn’t draw back in alarm when Naboo licks at the corner of his mouth, he opens up and lets him slip his tongue in.

Naboo’s careful not to overdo it, breaking off as Dennis’s breathing quickens. He takes the older man’s arm. ‘C’m on, then. I fink Bollo’s kicked all the drunks out of my bed.’

But Dennis still hangs back. ‘Naboo, I am not asking for… I mean, I would not presume… but I would take it as a kindness if you would permit me to wake up just once with you beside me. I have often wished…’

‘But never asked.’

‘The time was never right.’

‘Tis now, though. An’ I’d like that too. But, Dennis…’

‘I know.’ Dennis strokes a thumb along Naboo’s cheekbone. ‘This is a one-off under exceptional circumstances. You need have no fear that our professional relationship will be compromised by… whatever may or may not happen in the next few hours. Or that I will make demands upon you afterwards.’

‘I wasn’t scared of that. I just don’t want you to think –’

‘I don’t think, Naboo. I know this isn’t love. I am well aware that both of our hearts are spoken for. Now can we just go to bed? My feet are freezing.’

‘Alright.’ There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat that makes it hard to say more. He clicks the landing light off.

Dennis wraps an arm around his shoulders and they start to pick their way across the rubbish-strewn lounge, careful not to awaken the snoring Bollo on the sofa.

The bedroom’s almost as cold as the landing. Naboo locks the door, sticks the electric fire on, pulls the curtains, switches on the bedside lamp, turns the covers down on the bed…

Dennis is still standing just inside the door, staring into space.

‘Second thoughts?’ Naboo hopes not; they’ve made such a good start.

‘No, I…’ Dennis takes a couple of steps towards the bed. ‘Sorry. Tuned out there for a moment. There is, um, quite a considerable residual odour of illicit substances in here.’ He glances uneasily at the hookah on the dressing table. ‘Unsettled me a little. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

Naboo grins. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not plannin’ to get you high. Not with drugs anyway. An’ I’ve had plenty for today, might need a top-up later but I won’t smoke if I do. I think there’s some hashcakes in the fridge if Bollo hasn’t pigged them all.’

‘Thank you. That’s… very thoughtful of you.’

‘Dennis, for fuck’s sake stop bein’ so polite an’ get into bed. I don’t want to be up in front of the Board tryin’ to explain how I let the Head Shaman freeze to death in my own bedroom.’ Naboo puts his turban on the table beside the lamp, kicks his curly trainers under the bed, strips his own robes off over his head and drops them on the floor, and is about to take his trousers off too when a hoarse voice says ‘Stop.’

Dennis is standing on the other side of the bed, wearing only a pair of very small, very purple pants and a rather nervous expression.

‘OK, underwear’s fine, one step at a time eh?’ Naboo pulls the duvet down a little further, and gestures encouragingly at the bed.

‘No, you misunderstand me, I do want them to come off…’ Dennis swallows. ‘But I should like to be the one to take them off. If you would let me.’

‘Course.’ Heart beating fast, Naboo walks round the end of the bed to stand by Dennis. ‘All yours.’

Dennis sets his big hands very carefully on Naboo’s hips; hesitates a moment, then pushes the waistband of the silk trousers down, and lets go.

The fabric slides to the floor, and Naboo steps clear.

He can feel Dennis’s eyes on him, looking him up and down.

‘Beautiful,’ Dennis murmurs. ‘So beautiful…’

Naboo shivers. ‘An’ also so frozen.’ He burrows into the colourful pile of duvets and blankets on the bed. ‘Never got used to the climate on this planet… Dennis? You comin’ to join me or what?’

Even stripped to his underpants, the Head Shaman cuts an imposing figure: tall and well-muscled, holding himself very upright as he looks down at the bed.

Naboo wants to wrap himself around that big body and warm it up; he wonders what’s holding Dennis back now.

‘You want me to put the light out?’

‘No.’ Dennis gives an emphatic shake of his head. ‘No, I want to see… to see you. If that’s all right.’ Dennis takes a deep breath. ‘And I have nothing to hide from you.’

He slips the purple briefs down over his hips, and steps out of them.

He’s already half-hard… and woah, that is big. Naboo hasn’t got a lot of experience of full-males, whether from Xooberon or from Earth, but you don’t share a flat with Vince Noir without getting the occasional eyeful you didn’t want to see, and since Vince and Howard have been an item there have been a lot more mornings when Howard’s wandered happily into the kitchen in his underpants… Dennis is of similar build and, it seems, similarly well endowed.

And now, finally, he’s getting into bed. Naboo pulls the covers over him before he can change his mind.

‘You’re warm.’ Dennis reaches for him and pulls him close. ‘So warm…’

So this is what it’s like to be in bed with the most powerful bloke in the galaxy. He’s shivering and chilled and awkward and clumsy but he feels and smells so good… Naboo presses himself against Dennis’s side, craving the contact and the comfort. This might be second-best, it might not be love, and it might not be what he’d really wanted for Christmas, but still he’s not going to be writing to Santa to complain. Whatever happens. Or doesn’t.

Looks like it might, actually. Dennis is pulling him in for a kiss, and this time he’s taking the initiative, slipping his tongue gently into Naboo’s mouth while caressing the nape of his neck in a way that makes his spine tingle. And all the while that big hot hardness is making its presence felt, nudging at Naboo’s hip; either Dennis hasn’t noticed it yet or he isn’t bothered by it, but either way that’s good.

Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s face; Dennis flinches and draws a sharp breath.

‘Sorry, I forgot about your battle scars… You want me to get you something for that?’

‘No, it’s fine, I’d forgotten about it too to be honest. And I expect I’ll forget about it again in a minute. At least, that is, if you… Naboo, I know I said I just want to wake up beside you, but do you think… could we…’

The lump in Naboo’s throat is back, and this time he can’t stop it from overflowing into tears. ‘Course we could. You’ve waited so long, and you never put pressure on me… You’re a diamond, Dennis, I don’t know anyone else who’d have done that for me… you’re the best… I’m sayin’ that an’ I’ve bin in love with someone else for years...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet cover. ‘Sorry, I’m bein’ an idiot. C’m’ere.’

He strokes Dennis’s flat stomach; works his way down to the soft thatch of hair in his groin, and finally wraps a hand around his cock, and starts to work it slowly, up and down.

Dennis is breathing heavily. ‘That’s… that’s so good, Naboo… but it’s not… What can I do for you? Do you want me to –’

‘It’s OK for now. I’m more of a long-term project, y’know?’

‘But this is all one way…’

‘Listen.’ Naboo pins Dennis down with a hand on each shoulder; looks into his eyes. ‘You’ve spent three hundred and something years givin’ to me. That’s what you do, D-Man, you give. To me, to the Board, to whoever… An’ I figure it’s time for someone to give somethin’ back, an’ for you to let yourself take it. Let me give you a good time, let me listen to your troubles, let me warm your feet up an’ be there when you wake up in the morning. That’s not one-way, it’s what I wanna do an’ it’ll be a pleasure.’

‘If you’re sure…’

‘Course I am. An’ you can see it’s true.’

Dennis heaves a sigh, and relaxes. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries. Now, where were we? Aww look, now I’ll have to start all over again.’

Full-male bits do his head in, they’re so robustly masculine but at the same time so terribly vulnerable, all outside the body with nowhere to hide. Dennis’s prick feels heavy and soft in his hand, the skin at the tip like silk. Already it’s stirring, hardening again, and it doesn’t take long before it’s rigid and weeping and Dennis has rolled onto his side and is thrusting against Naboo, seeking release.

Naboo’s never known anybody need sex so badly.

Not even himself.

Dennis is whimpering now, quickening the pace, and Naboo wraps his other hand around him and tightens his grip.

A tremor runs through Dennis’s body, and Naboo can feel how close he is; and also that he’s holding back, still afraid that this is unwelcome after all.

‘Let it go,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘It’s OK, I’ve got you, you can come for me…’

And Dennis does, his hips jerking out of control, his mouth buried in Naboo’s hair to muffle the funny little mewling sounds he can’t help making.

Naboo smiles to himself. He’s heard Howard make sounds like that, trying to be quiet, but the walls in this place are thin…

Vince, of course, has never even bothered trying.

Dennis just keeps coming and coming; Naboo holds him and helps him ride it out. There’s wet everywhere, slick between their bodies. It’s sticky and uncomfortable and it smells of wet flour and sex, but Naboo doesn’t care. It’s worth any amount of extra laundry just to see the blissful expression on Dennis’s face as the aftershocks die down and leave him limp and panting.

‘Wow.’ Naboo kisses Dennis on the forehead. ‘That was pretty intense.’

‘It was… it was… Thank you. Just… thank you. But I’m sorry…’ Dennis squirms in the wet patch on the sheet. ‘If I’d known it’d make such a mess…’

‘It’s OK, got tissues somewhere.’ Naboo reaches for the box and dries what he can reach.

‘I should…’ Dennis is still trembling and incoherent.

‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Naboo pats him on the shoulder. ‘Give yourself a few minutes, yeah? Just rest quiet while I go and get the rest of this off… calm yourself down, do some deep breathing or something.’

It’s cold in the bathroom and he doesn’t linger, just cleans off the stickiest parts of him with a flannel, grins at his nude reflection and flits silently back to the welcome warmth of his room.

Dennis is sitting on the side of the bed, staring into space, solemnly doing deep breathing and presumably rethinking yet more of his basic principles.

Naboo puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You all right?’

‘Er, yes, I think so.’ Dennis focuses on him and smiles. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Or I will be, when I’ve…’ He gets to his feet, a little unsteadily, and heads for the door.

‘I’ll keep the bed warm for you.’ Naboo turns the fire off and burrows under the covers.

Oh, so good to be warm, inside and out. He couldn’t possibly have expected tonight to have turned out quite like this. It could have been weird, it should have been weird, Dennis wanting to take him to bed after all this time, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird at all, it just feels… nice.

He wonders with a sudden pang whether Saboo and Methuselah are tucked up together too; whether they’re talking about him, or about Dennis. Probably not – probably not talking at all. Not if their passionate embrace on the doorstep is anything to go by.

But he doesn’t want to think about that. Change the subject, see whether anything can be done to help Dennis save his marriage. Tap into all that counselling bullshit that Howard used to lap up by the bucketload – and pay good money for, too – back at the zoo. What is it that’s gone wrong?

And why is Dennis taking so long in the bathroom?


	4. 'You've gone wrong, Vince. You must have imagined it.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince can't sleep. And Howard can't believe what Vince is hearing.

‘Howard?’ Vince whispers into the darkness.

‘Howard.’

‘Howard, Howard, _Howard_ …’

Sod it. Vince gives up trying to be gentle about waking his sleeping partner, sits up, and clicks the bedside light on.

‘What the…?’ Howard reaches for him, trying to pull him back down into their warm cocoon of duvets.

‘I can’t get back to sleep.’

‘I _was_ asleep,’ the big man complains.

‘I was too. But then I wasn’t. And I’m still not.’

Howard sighs resignedly. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, I had this really weird dream about havin’ ants inside my mirrorball suit an’ they were tryin’ to build a nest … an’ I woke up all itchy.’ Vince scratches and fidgets and peers at himself. ‘No wonder, look, I’ve got all glitter stuck in my bellybutton. Must’ve come off my costume.’ He reaches for a mascara brush and starts trying to extract the scratchy little bits. ‘Oi, stop laughing, tisn’t funny.’

Howard chuckles. ‘Sometimes you have to suffer to be beautiful, little man.’

‘An’ was I?’ Vince smiles to himself; he saw the expression on Howard’s face when he emerged in his skimpy angel outfit, complete with silver boots and glittery wings and halo.

‘You know you were. You _are_.’ Howard’s tiny eyes peer up adoringly at Vince over the edge of the duvet.

Vince smiles to himself again. Being Howard’s lover is genius. He still annoys Howard a lot, probably as much as he ever did, but these days Howard finds it very hard to stay annoyed for long. ‘I _tried_ to go back to sleep an’ not wake you up,’ he says earnestly, ‘but I could hear ’em doin’ it next door an’… I felt a bit left out of the action, if you know what I mean.’

‘I have no idea at all what you mean. Hear whom, doing what?’

‘Naboo and Dennis, gettin’ it on.’

Howard’s face screws up in disgust. ‘Naboo and _Dennis_? No. No way. You’ve gone wrong, Vince. You must have imagined it.’

‘Did not.’ Vince is indignant. ‘I heard Dennis’s voice on the landing. An’ I know muffled sex noises when I hear them, Howard. Someone was makin’ sounds just like you do when I’m givin’ you a mind-blowing orgasm an’ you’re tryin’ to keep quiet.’

‘Vince.’ Howard rolls his eyes. ‘Just because you are having constant sex doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.’

‘I’m not having constant sex,’ Vince protests. ‘Otherwise, I’d be having sex right now, an’ I’m not. Although I _could_ be…’ He bats his eyelashes provocatively.

‘It’s three in the morning.’ Howard is trying to pretend the eyelash-batting isn’t having an effect, but Vince knows it is, just from the way Howard’s eyes are crinkling at the corners.

‘So? Anytime is sexytime, an’ it’ll help you get back to sleep again.’ Vince trails the mascara brush up the middle of his chest; traces a tickly path around his nipples, and watches the blush spreading over Howard’s cheeks.

The door to the next room creaks; Dennis’s heavy tread goes down the hall to the bathroom.

Vince puts the brush back on the table. ‘An’ I don’t have glitter anywhere any more, although you might want to check…’

Howard is tempted, he can tell.

Vince leans over and whispers in his ear. ‘There were… a few places I couldn’t reach…’

Just as he hoped, the temptation proves irresistible. Howard pulls him down into a fierce embrace and starts kissing him as though it’s been years since they last snogged, not just a couple of hours. And when he lets go of Vince’s mouth, leaving his lips all puffy and tingling from the soft scratchiness of Howard’s moustache, Howard keeps on kissing him, everywhere, pretending to look in all sorts of crevices for traces of glitter.

Vince giggles and squirms as Howard works his way down under the duvet and kisses all round the base of Vince’s now rock-hard erection. ‘Nope, no glitter there,’ Howard mumbles, ‘but let’s see about down here, shall we…’ and that gorgeous almost-prickly sensation carries on round Vince’s balls, and behind them, and finally traces round the rim of his hole, by which time Vince has stopped giggling and is breathlessly pleading instead.

‘What, you think you’ve got glitter up there?’ Howard slides a wet finger inside, and feels around. ‘Well, if you have, I don’t want to know how it got there. No, sir.’

‘Haven’t – got glitter – ’ Vince pants, ‘want – want you in there, Howard.’

‘What, again?’ Another finger slides in beside the first, gently stretching him. ‘Aren’t you sore?’

‘Course not.’ A little achy, maybe, but Howard’s always so careful... ‘An’ I know you want to. You – you said you couldn’t get enough of me.’

‘I can’t.’ Howard has three fingers inside Vince now, and is smiling at him in a way that makes Vince’s insides melt. ‘It still amazes me that I can have _any_ of you, after spending all those years thinking you wouldn’t be interested. And tonight – ’

‘Last night, now.’

‘I don’t care what night it is. Was. You just looked so… so sexy as an angel, and you’d gone to all that trouble, and it was all for me.’ Howard leans down for another kiss. ‘So if you want another Northern bumming, who am I to deny you? Even at half-past three in the morning.’

‘Awww, Howard.’ Vince kisses him back with enthusiasm. ‘I’m glad you liked my outfit. Took me ages to make it, with the wings and the glitter and all.’

‘I did like it. I liked it a lot. It made me want to… do things. But there were too many other people…’

Vince grins, recalling how Howard’s eyes had followed him around the room. ‘So you just ogled my pumpkin arse and thought about doing things. And when everyone had gone, you took me to bed and did quite a lot of them.’

‘Yes, but not this… or this…’

‘Howard, _please_ …’ Vince arches his back as Howard’s fingers find his sweet spot.

‘All right, my impatient angel.’ Howard withdraws his hand, and reaches for the lube on the table. ‘One Northern bumming, coming right up.’

He’s really getting quite good at this, considering they’ve only been having proper sex for a few weeks. Vince had expected it to take years, after all that don’t-touch-me stuff that Howard had had going on, but once across the physical boundary (helped considerably by one of Naboo’s more potent baking experiments) the big man had proved as eager as Vince himself. Possibly more so, if that were possible, which at the moment it surely isn’t.

‘C’m’on Howard, you must be ready by now.’

‘Can’t rush these things.’ Howard puts the lid carefully back on the tube and puts it back on the table.

Vince pouts. ‘Can too.’

‘Oh, really?’ And Howard lifts Vince’s knees up and back in one swift movement, and slides his perfectly lubricated cock into Vince’s equally perfectly lubricated arse without even pausing to draw breath. ‘Oh yes, look, you were right.’

Howard’s not the only one who can’t get enough of this. The first time was good – if short – and every time since has given Vince exactly the same feeling of breathless amazement, except now it usually lasts for considerably longer and Howard doesn’t keep stopping every ten seconds to ask Vince whether he’s all right.

Vince settles into a nice steady pace, matching Howard thrust for thrust, stroking Howard’s chest and brushing a thumb over Howard’s hard nipples every now and then, because he knows Howard really likes that.

Howard leans down for another scorching kiss, and Vince wriggles a hand in between their sweaty bodies, so that he can touch himself.

‘I love you,’ Vince says, looking into Howard’s eyes, because he knows Howard really likes that, too, now that eye contact doesn’t make him uncomfortable any more.

‘I love you too, little man.’ Howard must be close to coming, to be talking about love; he still has trouble with that particular four-letter word even though Vince has been saying it lots lately, partly because Naboo told him it might help de-sensitise Howard to it but mostly because he means it.

Vince tilts his hips, to take Howard in just that bit deeper, and Howard’s cock finds Vince’s prostate and suddenly Vince is coming all over the place and he can feel that Howard is coming too, and it’s just the best feeling in the world.

‘ _Oh_. Oh, Vince…’ Howard is flushed and tousled and gasping for breath but he’s still very careful as he disentangles himself from Vince and lies down beside him.

Vince strokes his hair and pulls the duvet up over his shoulders, then reaches for the tissues to clean them both up.

‘Thanks.’ Howard yawns luxuriously, and nuzzles into Vince’s neck. ‘That was absolutely –’

‘Shush a minute.’

‘Why?’

‘Listen.’

There are noises in the next room. Unmistakable noises of rhythmically creaking bedsprings and someone going ‘ _Oh_.’

‘Still think it sounds like you,’ Vince giggles.

‘I’m sure’ – Howard yawns again – ‘there is a perfectly innocent explanation.’

‘Oh yeah? Let’s hear it, then… Howard?’

But the big man is already snoring quietly.

Vince lies wakeful for a while, wondering whether Dennis and Naboo are having a nice time and how that is even possible since Naboo doesn’t have bits, although Vince is sure Naboo isn’t a girl.

He hugs Howard a bit tighter and is glad both of them are blokes. He couldn’t imagine not having his bits and he can’t imagine Howard as a girl either, although he’d probably still fancy him if he was…

There is a sharp cry from the next room, then a murmur of voices, then silence.

Naboo and Dennis. Dennis and Naboo. Who would have thought it? Vince had been watching Naboo at the party – a bit concerned that their landlord didn’t seem to be entirely in party mood – and he’d have sworn he only had eyes for Saboo. Mind you, that red jumpsuit was complete genius and a very snug fit, and Naboo wasn’t the only one eyeing it up… and then Saboo went off with Dennis’s wife, very dangerous given the Head Shaman’s track record… maybe Naboo is only sleeping with Dennis to try to persuade him not to cut Saboo’s head off? How is that ever going to work? And what if anything will happen if or when Saboo comes back?

Vince yawns wearily and settles his head on Howard’s shoulder.

It’s been quite a Christmas. And it’s not over yet.


	5. 'You'd like me to blow you?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naboo gets a straight answer to a straight question.

Naboo is just about to get out of bed and go and see whether Dennis has fallen asleep in the bath, when he hears the door open and shut and the key turning in the lock.

Then a very chilly Head Shaman is clambering in beside him, and Naboo stops thinking and just concentrates on warming him up again.

Over the sound of Dennis’s teeth chattering, Naboo can hear faint giggling from the other side of the wall. So those two are at it again…

Dennis rolls onto his side, his breath tickling Naboo’s ear.

‘Naboo?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I’ve… well, I’ve washed and everything, and I thought perhaps…’

Blimey, he’s hard again already. ‘You want more?’

‘Only if you… You see, I asked, and she said no, and ever since I’ve wondered whether I should have persisted or whether it’s something a man can do without… I need to know, Naboo, and I don’t know anyone else I can ask.’

‘Ask what?’ Naboo is beginning to suspect that communication issues may be at the heart of the Head Shaman’s marital problems.

‘Well, I’m not certain of the correct terminology, but would you…’ Dennis buries his hot face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘With your mouth,’ he whispers.

‘You’d like me to blow you?’

‘Yes.’

At last, a straight answer to a straight question. This feels like progress. And the idea of it is already turning Naboo on, more than he’d have expected it would.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever…?’

‘Don’t laugh, but no. Nobody ever has. My wife refused point-blank, the one time I asked, and she won’t let me, umm, reciprocate either. She never lets me… There’s so much I want to give her, so much she needs, but I can’t find the way to… I can see, you see. I can see into the heart of her, but she hates me for it.’

‘I don’t hate you for it.’ Naboo strokes the back of Dennis’s head, tracing the lines of his shamanic tattoos. ‘An’ maybe she doesn’t either, maybe she just finds it, I dunno, a bit scary or somethin’? Anyway, listen, we can talk about that later, right now we’ve got some important research to do.’

He rolls Dennis onto his back; leans over and kisses his nipples, nibbling and teasing until they’re standing stiff and proud and Dennis is making funny little noises again. Then he takes his time over kissing his way all down the middle of Dennis’s stomach, in the direction his arrow-shaped blue markings are pointing, into his very clean groin, and then up his shaft…

Dennis groans.

‘You OK there?’

‘I’m fine. Please, don’t stop, please…’

Naboo grins, and puts his head down again, planting tiny kisses on the soft folds of Dennis’s foreskin, drawing it back little by little until the shiny purple head is revealed in all its glory.

He swipes his tongue across the smooth surface, tasting salt and sex and Dennis, and it’s all very strange but very good… and Dennis doesn’t need to know that Naboo has never gone further than this before…

It’s a tight fit and it’s straining his jaw, but it’s all in there, or at least quite enough of it to be going on with. Naboo puts a hand round it so he can’t take it in too far, and choke. He doesn’t want to give Dennis any excuse to stop: that hot, hard flesh against his tongue is one of the most arousing things he’s ever felt.

To judge by the sounds Dennis is making, it’s quite mutual.

Naboo moves his head slowly, up and down, and licks at the ridges and folds of Dennis’s cockhead; he cups the other man’s balls with his free hand, feeling them drawing up and tightening in response.

‘Oh.’ Dennis arches his back. ‘Oh, that is… I never imagined… But you’d better stop, I’m going to –’

Naboo lifts his head briefly, just long enough to make sure his jaw’s still working and say ‘I know, an’ I don’t mind, I want you to.’

Dennis shudders and gasps as Naboo returns to his research. ‘You want me to… Oh. Oh…’

Well, they do say be careful what you wish for. One more lick, and Naboo’s mouth is flooded with thick, sweet, earthy-tasting come. It takes him by surprise, and he’s swallowed the first lot without giving it a second thought; he rolls the second mouthful around his tongue, deciding that he rather likes the taste, before swallowing that too and carefully sliding Dennis’s softening prick out of his mouth.

The big man is sobbing quietly. Naboo crawls up beside him, and holds him tight. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘She - she made me feel dirty for asking,’ Dennis chokes. ‘She said it was disgusting – that I was disgusting…’

‘She’s wrong there. Both times.’

‘But doesn’t it taste –’

‘No, it doesn’t, it just tastes of… well, you. Like this.’ Naboo kisses him, very gently. Dennis resists at first, then gives in and opens his mouth, and they kiss until it all tastes the same, and Dennis’s tears have ceased.

Naboo lies back on Dennis’s shoulder and lets Dennis stroke his hair in a soothing rhythm. A shaman could fall asleep like this…

‘Naboo?’

‘Mmm?’

‘What do you taste of?’

Unexpected, this is. Naboo props himself on an elbow and grins. ‘You really wanna know? Here.’

He runs a finger through the wetness in his groin, and brings his hand up to Dennis’s lips.

Dennis licks cautiously, then opens his mouth and takes Naboo’s finger in, caressing it with his tongue, sucking at it as though it were a cock, not just a finger.

So that’s what it feels like… Naboo moans and rocks his hips, and Dennis slides the finger out and kisses Naboo’s mouth, tasting of both of them.

Then he’s kissing Naboo’s throat, and his collarbone, and his aching nipples, and his navel, and right down over his un-male mound and between his thighs, Naboo unfurling like a flower in sunshine, opening and softening as Dennis licks and strokes and looks.

‘Could we…?’ Dennis asks softly. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’d really like…’

The D-Man certainly has stamina. His wife doesn’t know what a lucky woman she is. Or perhaps she reckons you can have too much of a good thing…

Naboo, on the other hand, will take as much of a good thing as he can get.

‘I’d like, too. If you can get three fingers in then yeah, it’ll be fine.’

A wet fingertip pushes cautiously inside him, and Naboo has to concentrate very hard on thoughts of Tony Harrison in order not to come right then and there.

The second finger finds his major sweet spot, making him gasp and wriggle.

‘Does that hurt?’

‘Do I look like that hurts?’

Dennis stills his movements and looks Naboo very solemnly in the face. ‘No, actually, you don’t. You look like… as though that was very nice indeed and you wish me to continue.’

‘Spot-on, it was an’ I do. Please…’

By the time Dennis has worked a third finger in beside the other two, Naboo is dripping wet and open and so turned on he can hardly stay still.

‘Are you…?’ Dennis leans over and kisses him.

‘Ready for you? You bet. Here, stick a pillow under my arse, it’ll make it easier for you.’

‘Do we require, um, lubrication?’

‘Have you felt what’s goin’ on down there? If I get any more lubricated I’ll float away.’

Dennis smiles, slicks himself with his wet hand, then kneels between Naboo’s parted legs and works his cock carefully inside.

It’s a tight fit, but it does fit, and as they start to move together Naboo realises that something has changed. Dennis is no longer clumsy with need but confident, relaxed, in control. The D-Man doing what the D-Man does best: giving.

He kisses him and their eyes meet; Dennis is looking right into Naboo’s soul.

The milky-blue of Dennis’s eyes clears and darkens, and suddenly Naboo is looking right into Dennis too.

Oh, and he is loving this, just loving it. Being able to give Naboo such a good time and at the same time just enjoy himself. This is what he wants for him and his Methuselah. And now he has hope that it might somehow be possible. A fragile, trembling hope…

Naboo has to close his eyes, or he’ll start crying again.

‘It’s all right. I just wanted you to see…’ Dennis strokes Naboo and soothes him, then starts thrusting into him in a slow rhythm, touching all three of his sweet spots in turn as that big hard full-male prick slides smoothly in and out.

He takes Naboo right to the edge, to the point where the pleasure becomes almost painful in its intensity and Naboo is whimpering helplessly.

Then he leans down, his moustache brushing Naboo’s ear, and whispers, ‘Come for me.’

With a sharp cry, Naboo lets go, his climax surging through him and washing away years and years of pent-up frustration in a flood of come and sweat and tears. He’s adrift, and would be lost if Dennis’s big hands weren’t holding him; he clings to the other man for dear life until it’s over and he’s washed up and sobbing and weak, but so very, very happy…

‘You were right,’ Dennis says, as he cleans Naboo up with the remainder of the box of tissues. ‘It does make one afraid, letting someone else see one’s innermost thoughts. It requires a high degree of trust, and that’s not easy.’

‘’S good though, yeah?’ Naboo smiles at him.

‘Yes. Yes, it was. But then I’ve known you for a long time.’ Dennis sighs. ‘Whereas my wife…’

‘If it can be like that with me, it can be like that with her too.’

‘I hope it can, but I can’t see how.’ Dennis shakes his head.

‘Don’t give up on that hope. There has to be a way.’ Naboo yawns, and stretches out under the covers. ‘I need to sleep on it, but I’m sure I can come up with something. We can talk it through in the morning.’

‘Naboo, I –’

‘Still think we’re a bit rubbish?’

Dennis laughs, and hugs him. ‘So what if we are, we had a good time, didn’t we?’

‘We certainly did, Big D,’ Naboo murmurs, snuggling closer.

‘And I’m not giving up hope.’ Dennis reaches up to click the light off. ‘It’s still Christmas. And we’ve still got the magic.’


	6. 'Fuck now, talk later, yeah?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis and Naboo have one more for the road, and Dennis gets some answers.

As always, Naboo’s shaman-senses wake him just before his radio alarm clock clicks on; only this morning he reaches out and clicks it off, instead of lying there listening to Xooberon FM.

Beside him, Dennis is still peacefully asleep, sprawled on his side with one arm tucked around Naboo’s ribcage.

Naboo has the feeling his boss needs all the sleep he can get.

Although…

Most of Dennis may be peacefully asleep, but one particular part of him isn’t, it’s wide awake and nudging into Naboo’s hip.

Naboo shifts his position a little, to give it more room.

‘One more for the road?’ Dennis murmurs sleepily.

‘And good morning to you, too, morning glory.’ Naboo wraps a hand round Dennis’s cock. ‘Sleep well?’

‘I – Oh, that’s good, yes, I did, thank you. You?’

‘Like a log.’ Naboo tightens his grip; strokes Dennis’s arse with his other hand. ‘Didn’t even dream.’

‘Nor did I… Naboo, what are you doing?’

‘Goin’ a bit too far?’ Naboo takes his hand away from Dennis’s ring. ‘Sorry. Should’ve asked first.’

‘That’s, um, a bit personal. I mean, I know you and I… we… last night… and I’ve thought long and hard about my basic principles, many times. But I don’t –’

‘You don’t need to explain.’ Naboo leans over and kisses Dennis into stammering silence. ‘But I can do this, yeah?’ And he strokes the furred ridge behind Dennis’s balls, pressing in deep, knowing there’s a sweet spot in there somewhere.

‘Yes, that’s… that’s fine. That’s… _Oh_.’

Yup, there’s a sweet spot in there alright: right there.

There’s a knock on the door.

‘Bugger off, Bollo,’ Naboo calls, ‘shaman business. Go an’ put the kettle on.’

‘OK boss.’ The gorilla’s shuffling footsteps go away down the corridor, and there is a clink of crockery from the kitchen.

Naboo takes Dennis’s prick into his mouth until it’s slick and gleaming; reaches a hand down to prepare himself, which doesn’t take long since he’s still pretty relaxed after last night.

Then he kneels astride Dennis’s hips, and smiles down at him. ‘You wanna top from the bottom?’

‘I… how did you know?’

Naboo shrugs. ‘My shaman-senses were tinglin’.’

‘Your shaman-senses, Naboo, are particularly highly attuned. That’s one of the reasons I appointed you to the Board… _Oh_.’

‘Fuck now, talk later, yeah?’ Naboo seats himself comfortably and tightens up a few key muscles, feeling Dennis twitch inside him in response.

‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ Dennis says gravely.

‘I may not come this time – batteries take a while to recharge, y’know? But that don’t mean I won’t enjoy it.’

‘I sincerely hope, Naboo, that you will. Enjoy it, I mean. This might be the last time that we…’

‘Shush. Think of it as the first time that we… do it this way up.’ Naboo moves his hips gently, carefully, following every hint Dennis’s body is giving him.

The Head Shamanic Markers are standing out dark and clear on Dennis’s pale skin; Naboo traces the blue curves with his fingertips. ‘I remember when they put those in, you asked me to stand witness at your markin’ ceremony an’ everyone thought it was a condition of my gettin’ on the Board…’

‘Everyone except me. I knew you would do it anyway. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like that.’

‘Like what? You barely flinched. I was the one who almost passed out. But I couldn’t look away. An’ they’re beautiful. Thought that at the time. Still do.’

‘Thank you.’ Dennis arches his body into Naboo’s touch.

‘Sensitive too, eh?’ Naboo is smiling now, and Dennis smiles back, and they move together, easy and gentle and affectionate, with no more need of words.

And to Naboo’s delighted surprise, he does come, right when Dennis does, and although it’s a low-key affair compared with the epic dam-burst of the night before, it’s still a magic moment with the two of them perfectly in tune, and Naboo never wants it to end.

Afterwards they lie quiet for a long time, Naboo’s head pillowed on Dennis’s shoulder.

‘That was nice,’ Naboo murmurs, when the silence has gone on long enough and it’s time to start talking; start trying to help.

‘That was… something else my wife will never do,’ Dennis admits sadly. ‘Even though I know she’d… reach a climax more easily that way.’

‘Ever thought that perhaps that’s why not? Maybe she’s scared to let go an’ show weakness. Or she’s holding out on you to make you feel inadequate, prove she’s got the power…’

‘Or maybe both.’ Dennis sighs heavily.

‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘Well… I suppose it might help. Didn’t you say you used to do counselling as a sideline, when you worked at the zoo?’

‘Yeah, but it was mostly for that ballbag Howard, an’ he ain’t exactly complicated. I’ll do my best for you though.’

‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘Start at the beginnin’, then. When you got married. What was it drew you two together?’

Dennis thinks about this for a long time. ‘She’s like you.’

‘In what way is an extreme sports calendar model even slightly like me?’ Naboo’s all at sea here, he hadn’t expected that particular answer, he was expecting a candid admission that Dennis had simply fallen for a fit body and a nice pair of tits.

The Head Shaman’s brow is creased in thought. ‘Self-sufficient, or pretending to be, but a loner, in need of support.’ Another long silence. ‘And, of course, she does have a fabulous body and the nicest pair of tits I’ve ever laid eyes on.’

Naboo nods. ‘She’s a stunner alright.’

‘With a core of fire, but so fragile… she won’t admit it… she wants the world to see her as a successful career woman in her own right, and I can’t blame her for that –’

‘You jealous of her career?’

‘No, I’m very proud of it. But she doesn’t believe me when I say that. And the other Board members seem to think I just wanted her as a trophy wife, to prove my virility.’

‘When in fact the reverse was true.’

‘I’m afraid so. And I didn’t see it at the time. I was… flattered by her attentions…’

‘And didn’t see that she wanted you as a trophy man, one of the most powerful blokes in the galaxy, to underline her successful status.’

‘She really did want me. Physically, I mean.’ Dennis sighs. ‘At least, she used to like me being masterful and waving a big sword around, but the novelty’s worn off now. Besides, I couldn’t keep doing that all the time. The body-count was unacceptably high – it was causing the Board all sorts of public relations issues.’

‘I fink…’ Naboo takes his time finding the right words; he could very well be wrong here. ‘I fink she made the mistake lots of people make about you – she didn’t see that you do actually have real power as well as the symbolic position. She thought they’d just put you in charge of the Board because you were a pushover, and that you’d be a pushover as a husband as well. An’ when she found out you could see right inside her head…’

‘She hated it. I told you.’ Dennis heaves a harsh, painful breath.

‘So she’s pushed you away because she’s scared of being close to you.’

‘Of being close to anyone, I think.’

Well, that’s something Naboo can sympathise with. He hugs Dennis a bit closer.

‘So… Is all the girl-chasing just due to frustration? Proving that you still got it even though your wife refused to recognise it?’

‘I suppose so,’ Dennis admits reluctantly. ‘It’s more of a habit, one I’ve never broken. I suppose I was being selfish – I never really thought it would do any harm. She goes to launch parties and photo shoots with all manner of young and handsome men…’

‘Revenge?’ Naboo asks quietly.

‘I hadn’t thought of it in that light, but yes, I suppose so. And last night was more of the same.’

‘You mean Saboo?’ Naboo stammers a little over the name.

‘Yes. And I assure you, Naboo, I won’t go after Saboo with a sword, whatever I find has transpired when I get home. You have my word, I will leave him in one piece. The Board of Shamen needs him. And you need him.’

‘Yes, well…’ Naboo tries hard not to think about just how true that is. ‘What about what you need, though?’

‘That’s not important.’

‘Bollocks.' Naboo props himself on an elbow, and looks hard at Dennis. 'It’s the most important thing of all, and the whole reason you’re in this mess. Listen, you love her an’ you want her back, right?... Right?... Dennis, look at me.’

It takes a while for Dennis to turn his head and meet Naboo’s gaze. ‘I do love her. As well as… want her.’

‘An’ you thought because she’s into extreme sport that she’d be into extreme sex as well, and she isn’t.’

Dennis shakes his head sadly. ‘She’s afraid of… anything even slightly unconventional.’

‘But she wants you, yeah?’

‘Yes. I can see that she wants to have sex with me, very much. But then she shies away from it. I have never really comprehended the workings of the female mind. I don’t understand.’

Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘I think I do. It scares her. Like you said last night. To have really good sex with someone you really have to trust them – it’s like takin’ your skin off and letting someone else see your insides – an’ she don’t trust you.’

‘I’ve tried…’

‘Yeah, but think about it. You spend a lot of time away on shaman business an’ she knows fine well that that usually means you’re getting’ wasted with us lot. You run after pretty girls at parties whether she’s there or not. She don’t feel secure. She can’t see inside you. If you want her to know what’s really goin’ on in there, you’re gonna have to let her in.’

‘I’m not sure I can.’

‘Course you can. You did it for me, you can do it for her too. You have to do the hard thing, big man, an’ tell her who you really are. Show her. And then trust her to make the right decision.’

Dennis puts both arms round Naboo and holds him tight. ‘Naboo, you’re right. My wife and I need to start again from a position of honesty, and you’ve shown me that that may in fact be possible.’

‘As well as releasin’ the tension, eh?’ Naboo nuzzles into Dennis’s neck.

‘That too. It should render the discussions… less complicated. And it was everything I ever hoped it would be. I – I don’t know how to thank you.’

‘No need. Listen, Big D, you’ve been the best friend and nearest thing to a parent I ever had.’ Naboo can feel himself welling up now. ‘If... if I could love you I would, you’ve always stuck by me and bent the rules for me, to save me…’

‘I think we saved each other, actually.’ Dennis pats him awkwardly on the back. ‘Come on, now, there’s no need for tears, didn’t you say we should look on this as the first time and not the last?’

Naboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet. ‘Yeah. An’ it was a fuckin’ good first time an’ all.’

‘Magic,’ Dennis says firmly. ‘It was magic. And it always will be.’

There’s a knock on the door. Naboo sighs.

‘Bugger off Bollo, I told you –’

A loud and derisive gorilla-snort makes the doorhandle rattle. ‘Yeah, yeah. Shaman business, Bollo’s hairy arse. Bollo boil kettle six times. You two coming out for breakfast or should Bollo just make lunch now?’


	7. 'Look, this suit's got no insulation. I'm freezing my arse off out here. Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to stand there gaping like a stranded goldfish?''

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dennis has gone home, the boys settle down to watch TV, but they soon get interrupted by an unexpected seasonal visitor.

‘Morning.’Vince looks round from stirring a big pan of porridge on the stove, and grins at Naboo and Dennis as they come through the kitchen doorway.

‘Good morning,’ Dennis says politely.

‘All of an hour left of it,’ Bollo grunts, ‘Bollo not know why he bother.’ He thumps the teapot down in the middle of the table.

Howard is hovering nervously at Vince’s elbow. ‘You need to turn the heat down, Vince, it’s going to burn…’

‘Give over, ya big fuss-pot, it’s fine.’ Vince’s grin grows wider. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Um, yes, yes, thank you.’ Dennis seats himself gingerly on one of the kitchen chairs and pours himself some tea.

Vince giggles. ‘Yeah, it sounded like it.’

‘Vince,’ Howard hisses, ‘I don’t think that’s –’

‘Ah.’ Dennis frowns as he adds milk to his mug. ‘You… you heard, then.’

‘Course we did.’ Vince hands the porridge pan over to Howard to dish out, and plonks himself down at the table next to Naboo. ‘But it’s OK, we didn’t mind. Sounded like you were having fun… ’Spect you heard us, too.’

Naboo puts his head in his hands and thinks very hard about memory-wiping potions.

Vince pats him on the back. ‘Aww, Naboolio, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. Isn’t it, Howard?’

'Er...' Howard is blushing.

‘Secrets not possible in house with walls this thin,’ Bollo mutters.

‘I see no particular reason to conceal the truth on this occasion,’ Dennis is saying earnestly. ‘After all, we are all friends here.’

Naboo shoots Bollo a warning glance before the gorilla can say anything else.

‘Have some porridge, Dennis.’ Howard brandishes the pan. ‘And, um, maybe change the subject?’

‘Before Naboo sinks through the floor, you mean?’ Vince is laughing, but his touch on Naboo’s shoulder is kind.

‘And make another mess for Bollo to clean up.’ Bollo slops milk into his bowl. ‘Mmm, Vince, this good, you getting better.’

‘Cheers.’ Vince leans over for the tin of golden syrup. ‘Here you go, Naboo, sugar rush, just what you need.’ He ladles a generous helping onto Naboo’s breakfast, and a still more generous one onto his own.

‘You’ll get fat,’ Howard warns.

Vince sticks his tongue out at him. ‘What, with all the exercise I’ve been gettin’ lately?’

‘Thought we was changin’ the subject.’ Naboo takes a spoonful of syrupy porridge; lets the sugar start to do its work. ‘You guys hittin’ the sales later?’

‘Maybe,’ Howard says. ‘There’s a late-nighter on at Top Shop and I know Vince had his eye on a few things...’

Vince and Howard – well, mostly Vince – start chattering on about clothes and glitter and shades of brown; Naboo catches Dennis’s eye and says quietly, ‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ The big man is looking thoughtful. ‘Just… getting my ideas in order. It’s going to be a challenging day. But at least I started it with a good… um… breakfast.’

And then they are both laughing quietly, while Bollo rolls his eyes and licks the last of the golden syrup off his fur.

…….

 

‘Well, there you go. Bit dodgy, but it should get you home.’ Naboo unrolls his magic carpet onto the pavement outside the shop, and pokes at its threadbare fringe with the toe of one curly trainer. ‘Won’t be needin’ it for a few days, just send it back whenever, it’s got a homin’ device that usually works…’

He looks up and meets Dennis’s eyes.

‘Crunch time.’ Dennis’s voice is quiet, but resolute.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s cheek. ‘Best of luck.’

‘Thanks. Er, how about… um… one more for the road?’

It’s a long, sweet kiss, and so hard to break it off, but finally Naboo pulls away and slaps Dennis on the back. ‘Go get ’er, big man.’

‘I will.’ Dennis smiles down at him. ‘Thank you for everything, Naboo. And don’t forget…’ He steps aboard the carpet.

‘Forget what?’

‘It’s still Christmas,’ Dennis says, and he looks as though he was going to say more, but he has to sit down rather suddenly as the carpet takes off with its usual jerk. Naboo watches it rise unsteadily into the grey sky; the steering takes a bit of getting used to. Should get it fixed really.

The street feels very empty when the carpet finally disappears over the rooftops. And the cold air is making Naboo’s eyes water a little.

Heavy footsteps come down the stairs behind him, and he’s pulled into a warm and hairy hug.

‘Shaman business, eh? Good thing you lock door, Bollo didn’t need to see. But Bollo glad you had nice time.’ The gorilla looks long into Naboo’s face, and ruffles his hair. ‘Come on inside. Bollo go and put kettle on again. And light up bong. It nearly time for Boxing Day special of Peacock Dreams.’

As he climbs back up the stairs, Naboo makes a mental note: never to even think about upgrading his familiar ever again.

It’s nice and warm in the lounge; the TV is on, and the two humans are already comfortably settled on the sofa.

Which is no longer an island in a sea of rubbish and empties. Someone – all three of them, to judge by the smug smiles on their faces as they see that Naboo has noticed – has done a hasty but thorough job of shovelling the crap into binbags and piling the dirty plates and glasses in the sink. And someone has even pushed the Hoover across the carpet – almost certainly Howard, since Bollo always says hoovering sets off his asthma, and Vince has no idea how to turn the thing on.

‘Cheers guys, ’preciate this,’ Naboo mumbles.

Vince exchanges a meaningful glance with Howard, and puts an arm round Naboo as he sinks into the cushions beside them.

Naboo makes another mental note: to raise his employees’ wages and stop calling them ballbags so often.

The hash pipe is lit, the familiar theme music is tinkling, Bollo has shoved them all up the sofa so he can squeeze in at the end as well, and they’re all just drifting off nicely when the doorbell rings.

‘Bollo, go an’ see who it is, would ya?’ Naboo says sleepily.

The gorilla grumbles his way to the window, and peers down into the street.

He turns back to them, grinning.

‘Well? Who is it?’ Vince asks. ‘Anybody we know?’

Naboo takes another drag of the pipe. ‘Go an’ let ’em in, Bollo, we’re just gettin’ to the good part.’

Bollo grins still more. ‘Bollo not going. Naboo should answer it.’

‘Why me?’

‘Trust Bollo.’ And Naboo finds himself being hauled bodily out of his cosy seat and propelled to the door.

‘I gotta good feeling about this,’ Bollo stage-whispers as he shoves Naboo out onto the landing.

Naboo doesn’t share the good feeling. It’s cold and draughty on the stairs, and he really doesn’t want to talk to anybody at the moment. He really should have got that entryphone fixed, he thinks, as he opens the door…

Oh.

Fuckin’ hell, it’s Father Christmas.

‘What –’ Naboo swallows hard, and tries again. ‘What are you doin’ ’ere?’

Santa sweeps off his pointed hat and makes an elaborate mock-bow. ‘I’ve come to make your Christmas dreams come true – actually, no, that’s a total lie, I’ve just come to bring your carpet back.’

Naboo rubs his eyes.

This can’t be happening.

The visitor taps one fleece-booted foot impatiently.

‘Look, this suit’s got _no_ insulation. I’m freezing my arse off out here. Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to stand there gaping like a stranded goldfish?’

He jams the hat back onto his black curls, and stands there waiting.

His silky red jumpsuit is indeed not designed for a wintry climate: it clings tightly to every line and curve of his tall body. The fur-trimmed belt knotted about his waist has slipped down, sitting low over his hips, the tasselled ends dangling down one thigh…

He shivers, and takes a step closer.

‘Naboo, you plum, get a grip. Or at least get out of the bloody way.’

He actually wants to come in? No, this definitely can’t be happening.

But just in case it is…

Naboo opens the door a bit wider, and stands aside. ‘Um, yeah, come in, sorry, we were just chillin’, er, it’s warmer inside.’ He’s not sure whether any of what he’s just said made sense, but he’s hugely relieved when Saboo comes in anyway and dumps the rolled-up carpet in the hall.

‘There you go. One manky rug. With the Head Shaman’s compliments.’

‘Cheers,’ Naboo says cautiously. Perhaps this is really happening.

Saboo kicks the carpet closer to the wall, out of the way. ‘Dennis said you might be needing it. Thank fuck he didn’t make me fly here on it, doesn’t look airworthy to me.’

‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says indignantly, ‘it works fine.’

‘Does it now.’ Saboo’s lip curls. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.’

Naboo searches desperately for a safer topic of conversation: one that won’t involve Saboo telling him he’s rubbish and that he’s never liked him. ‘If you didn’t fly, how did you get here?’

‘By amulet. Dennis lent me one from his personal collection.’

‘Bit unconventional.’ Amulets are powerful artefacts; shamanic law decrees that they should only be used in emergencies.

‘Since when has that ever stopped the D-Man? I think he just wanted me out of the way so he could get it on with his wife.’

‘They’re back on speaking terms?’ Naboo hopes fervently that Dennis has succeeded in his mission.

Saboo rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. She was still asleep on the sofa when I left. But to judge by the way he was looking at her... Anyway he couldn’t wait to get me out of the house, said you’d be needing help to sort things out after the party, and burbled some nonsense about it still being Christmas.’

A small flicker of hope lights itself up in Naboo’s mind, like a single fairy light on a tree. ‘It is still Christmas.’

‘Like I give a toss. Christmas is over-rated, if you ask me.’

‘Didn’t you get what you wanted, then?’

Saboo aims another vicious kick at the rolled-up carpet. ‘No, I fucking well didn’t. Blasted woman. I spent half the night playing the therapist, having my ear bent about how impossible her husband is. And now apparently I have to be Dennis’s errand boy and your home help. Still in this embarrassingly ridiculous costume. Well, the least you can do is make me a cup of tea now I’m here…’

He stomps up the stairs, still complaining. ‘Honestly, Naboo, you are completely hopeless. Dennis was right about that, at least. Look at this place, it’s a tip.’

Naboo can’t even defend himself; he’s reduced to speechlessness at the sight of Saboo’s scarlet-satin-clad arse going up the stairs in front of him.

‘And as for _that_ …’ Saboo isn’t finished yet.

But the flicker of hope in Naboo’s mind is suddenly strong enough to illuminate several Christmas trees at once. Including the stars on top.

Because Saboo has stopped dead on the landing, looking up at the light. ‘Oh, that takes the cake. It’s pathetic. It has to be the most rubbish bit of mistletoe I have ever seen.’

‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo hears himself say as he reaches the top step, ‘it works fine.’

Saboo snorts. ‘Does it now.’ He turns round and looks at Naboo with a challenge in his eyes, and a hint of laughter twitching the corner of his mouth.

Naboo lifts his chin defiantly. ‘Course it does.’

That flicker of hope is now a blaze of certainty. Dennis is behind this. Dennis has never let him down yet…

‘Would you care to prove that ridiculous assertion?’ Saboo is grinning openly now; the sparkle in his eyes is more of an invitation than a challenge.

Dennis, you diamond. This is really happening. It really is.

And it’s still Christmas.

Naboo stands on tiptoe and flings his arms round Saboo’s neck.

Saboo’s mouth meets his with a hunger and sincerity that drives away all remaining doubt.

‘Why –’ Naboo gasps, coming up for air, ‘ – why didn’t you say?’

‘Why didn’t _you_?’ Saboo takes Naboo’s face between his hands and gazes at him in a way that says this is all he’s ever wanted.

‘Fair point,’ Naboo concedes, and then Saboo is kissing him again, and Naboo doesn’t care if they never do anything else, because this is just perfect, and it’s turning out to be a magic Christmas and not a rubbish one after all.

Saboo picks him up bodily and carries him through the lounge, to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles, cheering and applause from the others on the sofa.

Naboo gives them a two-finger salute behind Saboo’s back.

‘Excuse us, gentlemen.’ Saboo can barely keep a straight face. ‘We’ll join you later. But right now Santa has a couple of late Christmas wishes to fulfil.’

He’s still laughing as he kicks the bedroom door shut.


	8. 'I like your giftwrapping.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naboo finally gets what he wanted all along.

Saboo puts Naboo down on the bedroom floor, takes a pace back and looks at him. ‘Well. What now?’

A delicious shiver runs through Naboo; he’s not used to being looked at like that. He could easily get used to it, though… ‘Erm, how about a re-run without the audience? And then we can unwrap our Christmas presents.’

‘Sounds like a plan to me.’ Saboo puts his hands on Naboo’s shoulders, and bends to kiss him again, carefully this time, as though afraid he might break him.

Naboo licks at the corner of Saboo’s mouth until his lips part; the other man lets out a small, needy whimper as Naboo starts to explore him with his tongue, tasting and caressing, letting him know just how much this means…

It means everything.

Everything, just to stand there and hold and be held in return, to feel Saboo’s heart hammering under the flimsy red material, to hear his own pulse loud in his ears. Saboo is shivering slightly and his body is taut with excitement; he smells of sweat and leather and a faint waft of perfume…

Methuselah’s perfume.

Naboo’s heart twists painfully inside him, and he pulls away. ‘Saboo…’ The name feels strange in his mouth.

‘What is it?’

So hard to say it, when it could wreck everything. But not saying it would be ten times worse. ‘There’s… before we…there’s somefink I have to tell you.’

‘No, you don’t.’ Saboo smiles; his big hands are gentle as they stroke Naboo’s back. ‘Dennis already did. And it’s all right.’

‘You – you don’t mind?’

Saboo shakes his head. ‘Why should I? You didn’t know I’d be coming back. Hell, I didn’t know I’d be coming back. And I can’t blame you for taking a bit of comfort when it was offered.’

Naboo buries his burning face in Saboo’s chest. ‘Wasn’t just comfort,’ he mumbles. ‘We had sex…’

‘I know. But I wouldn’t be standing here if you hadn’t. I’d be a decapitated corpse in Dennis’s front room.’

Naboo shudders.

‘Stop it.’ Saboo pulls him close. ‘Don’t think about it, it didn’t happen. Don’t…’

But Naboo can’t stop shaking, it’s all too much, his world has been turned upside down and he hadn’t smoked nearly enough weed before that doorbell rang. ‘Sorry, ’m havin’ a panic attack…’ His voice sounds wavery and too high.

Saboo takes his hand, tows him across the room and sits him down on the bed. ‘Little one.’ His voice is gentle; Naboo has never heard him speak like that to anyone. ‘I know, it’s a big change and it’s been a long time coming. But there’s no need to panic. Take a deep breath and count to ten. You’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine.’

He sits beside Naboo and strokes him as though he were a scared small animal, touching him without haste, without demands, soothing away his fear.

Pretty soon Naboo is completely relaxed again, his curly trainers have joined Saboo’s snowboots on the floor, and the two shamen are lying on the bed wrapped around each other, kissing deep and slow.

Saboo’s big body is warm now, and he’s not troubling to conceal his arousal, not that that costume has much potential for concealing anything anyway. Naboo can’t help pressing closer and closer, until Saboo pulls away, props himself on one elbow and grins.

‘Would you like your present now?’

‘But I’ve been bad,’ Naboo says seriously.

‘That’s not what I heard.’ Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s cheek. ‘I heard you were very good indeed…’

That smile is infectious. And it seems that Saboo is genuinely prepared to take last night’s events in his stride. Naboo plucks up courage to untie the furry belt from around Saboo’s waist and and draw it out from under him; growing bolder, he reaches for the zip tag at Saboo’s throat.

The zip comes open with a faint ripping sound. Naboo keeps on pulling gently, mesmerised by the gradual revelation of Saboo’s brown skin, his neat nipples, the curling dark hairs around his navel…

‘Hey.’ He gets to his knees to ease the red suit off over Saboo’s feet. ‘I like your giftwrapping.’

‘I thought you might.’ Saboo stands up and turns round, slowly.

Now that is the sort of package everybody should find on (or preferably in) the bed on Christmas morning. It’s a red patent leather posing pouch with a white fur trim and a very small thong, and it’s only just managing to do the job for which it was designed…

Naboo stands up too, all breathless and light-headed, and reaches for the very small clip that is struggling to hold it all together.

‘Not yet.’ Saboo shakes his head. ‘I think it’s my turn to unwrap something, don’t you?’

Without waiting for a reply, he lifts Naboo’s robes off over his head, pushes his trousers down and turns him round, his gaze burning Naboo’s shaman-senses.

‘Oh, that is beautiful.’ Saboo’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and the raw longing in his words makes Naboo’s skin prickle all over.

Saboo reaches for him; strokes a thumb over one taut nipple. ‘Cold in here.’

Naboo grins; the air is cold, but that’s not what’s giving him goosebumps.

‘Soon warm you up,’ he says, and reaches again for that stupidly small clip.

It gives way stupidly easily, and the thong falls to the floor.

The room goes very quiet. Saboo stands still, trying not to shiver, watching Naboo watching him. His heartbeats are shaking his body, his erection standing proud.

And it’s an erection that anybody would be proud of, perhaps not as big as Dennis’s but strong and straight and elegantly shaped and very, very hard.

‘Can I…?’ Naboo asks dreamily, and puts out a hand.

Saboo tuts impatiently. ‘That was the idea, you Christmas pudding. If I didn’t want you to, then I wouldn’t have let you take all my clothes off, would I?’

‘S’pose not.’ Naboo moves a step closer. He can feel the warmth of Saboo’s body, hear the soft sounds of his breathing, smell the musk of him. This is the best Christmas present ever.

‘Your hand’s cold,’ Saboo complains, as Naboo reaches up to caress his throat, his chest, his lean ribcage.

Naboo grins. ‘I know how to warm it up.’ He strokes down the black curls on Saboo’s belly, reaches that glorious hot hardness and wraps his cold hand around it…

And Saboo is coming.

There was no warning, but he’s gasping and shaking and spilling warm and wet over Naboo’s hand and over both of them; Naboo can do nothing but hold on, aroused and surprised and a bit anxious.

Abruptly Saboo pulls away; turns his back. ‘That never happens.’

He sounds angry. Embarrassed. Naboo doesn’t know what to do, this isn’t how it was meant to be.

‘I don’t mind.’ He touches Saboo cautiously on the arm. ‘There’s plenty of time to get it right.’

‘I wanted it to be perfect,’ Saboo snarls. ‘Not fucking _humiliating_.’ He looks down at himself, his chest heaving.

Wordlessly, Naboo passes him the new box of tissues that someone – Bollo, presumably – has thoughtfully placed on the bedside table.

Saboo scrubs at his damp groin, curses, and hurls the dirty tissues angrily at the bin, without looking round.

No, oh no, this can’t all be going wrong already. There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat; his body aches with tension. At any moment Saboo is going to grab his clothes and leave, and this Christmas dream will be over.

The magic has to be still working, it _has_ to be…

Saboo stands with his back turned for what feels like about ten years before he heaves a huge sigh and chokes out: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not.’ Weak with relief, Naboo stands behind him; puts his arms round him. ‘You’re here, an’ I never thought you would be… an’ it was a compliment, I didn’t know you wanted me that much.’

‘Neither did I.’ Saboo is shivering, his skin clammy.

‘Come to bed. It’s too cold to discuss it out here with no clothes on.’ Naboo takes Saboo’s hand and pulls him across the room; he doesn’t resist.

Oh, and Bollo’s put clean sheets on the bed as well. Truly a familiar in a million.

Naboo tucks them both in and lies quietly beside Saboo; when the shivering finally stops, he lays his hand over Saboo’s, linking their fingers together.

‘Thank you.’ Saboo’s face is still turned away.

Naboo leans over and kisses him behind the ear. ‘Ready to start again, then?’

Saboo meets his eyes and smiles, a bit shyly. ‘I suppose so, if you are.’

‘Course I am.’ Naboo grins. ‘You plum.’

‘Oi, that’s my line.’ Saboo pins Naboo down by the shoulders and kisses him on the mouth until they’re both breathless and Saboo is hard again.

‘Well?’ Naboo looks up into Saboo’s dark eyes. ‘D’you want to…?’

Saboo looks away. ‘Actually, you know, I’m not sure, not yet.’

‘This is sure.’ Naboo strokes a fingertip along Saboo’s rigid prick. ‘And I am too now.’

Saboo fidgets uneasily. ‘Well, yes, I know, but we haven’t… there hasn’t been time. We hardly know each other.’

‘Bollocks, we’ve known each other for three centuries.’

There’s an ironic twist to Saboo’s mouth. ‘Yes, as professional colleagues who don’t like each other very much. Not as…’

‘Lovers?’ Naboo goes on stroking, the hot skin satin-smooth against his fingers.

Saboo half-laughs, and buries his face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I’m just not certain we’re ready to have full-on sex yet.’

‘Because I was with Dennis last night?’

‘No, that’s not it.’ Saboo rolls away, and stares at the ceiling. ‘I meant it when I said I didn’t mind. And it’s up to you how quickly you recover. If you say you’re ready, then you’re ready.’

‘But you’re not sure that you are.’

‘No, I’m not, Naboo, I’m not sure at all.’ Even though they’re not touching, Naboo can feel that Saboo is tense all over as he struggles to explain himself. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. But…’

‘ ’S’alright, I promise not to laugh.’ Naboo does his best to ignore his own rising worry and disappointment, and just listen. Perhaps it’ll be something he can do something about.

‘You’d better not fucking well laugh. It’s not funny.’ Saboo hesitates, clears his throat, and plunges in. ‘Alright, I’ve only ever done it once, and that was with a woman, a long time ago, and it was an utter disaster. And… I’ve never seen a thirdsex before except in textbooks.’

‘An’ you don’t deal with unfamiliar situations well, they make you nervous, an’ that makes you get angry an’ behave like a total ballbag. I know that from bein’ a professional colleague of yours that you didn’t like very much.’ Naboo is relieved; this is something he can do something about, and he’s going to start right now. ‘Gimme your hand.’

‘What for?’

‘So I can show you where to start, OK? The stuff that the textbooks don’t tell you. Thirdsex ain’t so different really, it just looks a bit unusual.’ He kisses Saboo on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, take your time, an’ if you’ve got questions just ask ’em, I don’t mind.’

He lies down again, flat on his back, and waits for what seems an age until he feels Saboo lay a hand on his stomach.

‘Now what?’ Saboo sounds nervous; his fingers are cold. ‘Naboo, I don’t – ’

‘Shush.’ Naboo takes hold of Saboo’s wrist and guides him further down, until his palm is cupped over the slight mound that covers Naboo’s internalised genitals.

‘So smooth,’ Saboo murmurs, moving his hand cautiously from side to side. ‘Is that… good?’

Naboo shudders and arches his back, unable to keep still. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know quite what to think. Not sure thinking has much to do with this. What happens if I… Oh.’

‘Yeah, it’s wet. Can’t help it that you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, can I? It’s OK, keep going, there’s only one way in and you’re half way in already.’

Naboo keeps his own hand over Saboo’s, guiding and encouraging him, until Saboo’s long fingers, warm now and slippery, are inside him and pressing up against…

With a sudden shrill yelp, Naboo comes on the spot, keening and whimpering and totally unable to help himself.

To his surprise, Saboo keeps his hand there through the aftershocks, despite the flood of warm stickiness spreading over his wrist and between Naboo’s thighs and down onto the sheets.

‘That never happens either,’ Naboo says faintly, as Saboo withdraws his hand and looks with amazement at his wet fingers.

Saboo just smiles at him, and suddenly they are both laughing, and when they stop laughing and look at each other, Naboo has an idea.

‘Got it.’

‘Got what?’

‘The next step.' He rolls over onto his side, facing away from Saboo.

‘Don’t turn your back on me. Please.’

‘I’m not, don’t worry, you get the music when I’m doin’ that. No, look.’ Naboo parts his thighs, and spreads the slippery wetness over them. ‘One step short of goin’ all the way… but it’ll feel just as good.’

‘In there?’ Saboo sounds intrigued. ‘Well, that’s a new one on me, but I’ll try anything once.’

‘’S’nice,’ Naboo reassures him, ‘an’ I can touch you too, an’ we can stop anytime you want –’

‘You must be joking.’ Saboo pushes carefully into the space between Naboo’s legs. ‘Why would I want to stop this?’

Naboo feels around until he’s holding Saboo’s wet, hot cockhead lightly between his fingertips, stroking and caressing as the other man thrusts against him, pressed tight against his back and his arse. He can feel Saboo’s balls down there, the slight tickle of hair, and it’s all strange and a bit uncomfortable, but it’s completely magic and Naboo can’t think of a reason he’d want to stop, either.

‘Oh.’ Saboo picks up the rhythm, his prick hardening, sliding smoothly back and forth. ‘Oh, that is just beautiful. I can’t…’

Naboo tightens his grip slightly; thrusts back against Saboo’s big warm body. ‘So it’s OK then?’

‘Little one.’ Saboo nuzzles into the curve of Naboo’s neck. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I never… wanted… anyone… the way I… oh, Naboo…’

And then he’s coming, into Naboo’s hand and all over his front and… sorry Bollo, that’s another sheet that’ll have to go down the laundrette later.

Afterwards Saboo lies relaxed and smiling while Naboo cleans him up. The theme tune to ‘Colobos the Crab’ comes drifting through the door: someone’s turned the volume up on the telly.

Naboo smiles to himself as he wonders when that happened, and whether it was Howard or Bollo who muttered ‘we don’t need to hear this.’

Saboo stretches out on the dry side of the bed, and pulls Naboo down beside him, comfortably entwined, skin to skin. ‘I think, maybe, next time…’

‘We can go all the way?’ Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘Only when you’re ready for it, there’s no rush and I’m not giving you marks out of ten. An’ there’s lots of other ways we can get to know each other a bit better.’

‘I’d say we’ve made a good start.’ Saboo pulls him just a bit nearer.

‘I’d say you were right,’ Naboo agrees sleepily.

‘Even though it was a bit rubbish?’

‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says, ‘it worked fine.’

Saboo chuckles. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Thanks…’ Naboo’s eyes are closing. He rests his head on Saboo’s shoulder and surrenders to the closeness and the warmth and the happy feeling of having everything he ever wanted.

He hopes Dennis is feeling like this right now too…

A touch on his cheek rouses him from a blurred dream of red leather and warm white fur.

‘What…?’

‘Sorry to wake you,’ Saboo mutters in his ear, ‘but I need to… and I haven’t got any other clothes… You got a dressing gown or something?’

Naboo wriggles out of the complicated tangle of limbs they seem to have formed in their shared sleep. ‘Cloak on the back of the door,’ he mumbles.

‘Bit exotic, isn’t it?’

Naboo looks up and grins. ‘Suits you though. An’ don’t worry, it’s machine washable.’

Saboo wraps the swirl of glittery purple-and-blue fabric around himself and shuts the door behind him.

Naboo snuggles down under the sex-scented bedclothes for a spot more kip.

It seems only seconds later that Saboo is shaking him awake again.

‘Naboo…’

‘ _Now_ what?’

‘I didn’t have any breakfast. Is there anything to eat in this place?’

Naboo sighs, hauls himself out of bed and pulls his robes back on. Now he comes to think of it, he’s pretty hollow himself; this morning’s porridge has finally worn off.

‘Not in here, but there’s stuff in the kitchen. What time is it?’

‘Half past three in the afternoon.’

‘Lunchtime,’ Naboo says cheerfully. ‘Let’s go and see what the others have left.’

Saboo’s face falls. ‘Do we _have_ to go and join them?’

‘Why not?’

‘They’ll take the piss.’

‘Well, yeah. But let’s face it, they don’t get a lot of other entertainment round here, they have to make their own.’ Naboo goes to stand face to face with Saboo; takes both his hands. ‘Don’t worry, they’re on our side.’

‘Even that familiar of yours?’

‘Bollo’s happy if I’m happy,’ Naboo declares stoutly, ‘an’ I am happy… I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas, in the end.’

‘So did I, little one.’ Saboo leans down to kiss him softly on the mouth. ‘So did I.’


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has moved on, and so have a few other things. Dennis and Methuselah throw a party.

It’s a beautiful Xooberon spring day: the suns high and clear, the blue fronds of the featherpalms fluttering and rustling in the ocean breeze.

Naboo drains the last mouthful of his purple cocktail.

_Fuck, that’s good. Good to be warm, good to be back home, good to be at a party... and this is quite some party. Way better than that Christmas disaster, although that did turn out OK in the end. I suppose. Good thing we didn’t invite all this lot, though..._

The gardens of the Head Shaman’s official residence are thronged with people of all sizes, shapes, genders and colours. It looks as though the entire Shaman Academy has turned up, and then there are all Methuselah’s friends, fans, photographers, stylists and hangers-on... many of them young and handsome men, or pretty girls, but today Dennis and his wife have no eyes for anyone but each other.

_Dennis looks great, don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed and confident. And Methuselah is much less scary when she’s smiling, and now she’s grown her hair longer that flowing dress suits her, even though it’s sort-of brown... the sort of colour that Howard would’ve chosen. There’s probably a name for it, I’ll have to ask him._

Naboo glances across the lawn to where Howard and Vince are standing by the fountain. Howard has a big daft grin plastered permanently across his face; occasionally he glances down at the ring on his left hand, and then at Vince, as if either of them might disappear at any moment.

Vince is in his element, of course. He loves parties. He’s chatting away to anyone and everyone, his hair immaculately root-boosted and feathered and tinted (it took him a week), his hand never letting go of Howard’s arm.

‘They look happy,’ a gruff voice says in Naboo’s ear. ‘That good to see.’

‘Yeah.’ Naboo turns and smiles at his familiar. ‘Yeah, it is...’

‘Bollo!’ a high voice squeaks. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages. Come an’ meet the girlfriend.’

A bat is flittering round the gorilla’s ears.

‘Not now, Chrissy. Now not a good time.’ Bollo’s face creases into a worried frown.

‘Go on, ya berk,’ Naboo tells him. ‘I’m fine. Saboo’ll be back in a minute, he won’t wanna miss the boss’s speech. Say hi to Barry for me.’

‘Alright then.’ Bollo shambles off towards a bunch of bespectacled, red-haired shamen whose familiars – all airborne – range from the tiny bat to a twelve-foot red dragon.

And here comes Saboo making his way back from the bar, his tall figure weaving gracefully through the crowd. A little twinge of anxiety gnaws at Naboo’s insides.

_Bollo isn’t the only one who’s worried._

_Saboo’s been so quiet lately. Something’s on his mind. Didn’t pick up on it for a while, what with all the excitement of Howard and Vince announcing their engagement and then Dennis convening this gathering._

_Maybe when the party’s over I might suggest he and I stay on here for a couple more days, spend some time together, maybe rent one of the cabins by the beach and just enjoy the warmth and the quiet. Perhaps Saboo’s just in need of some downtime: there’s been a fuck of a lot of organizing to do on Dennis’s behalf to get this event to actually happen. The big man may be magic, but he’s hopeless at practicalities_...

‘Whoever suggested we let Tony Harrison run the bar must have been out of his fucking mind.’ Saboo is fuming as he hands Naboo another glass.

Naboo giggles. ‘Yeah. You were. I remember that planning meeting. Parts of it anyway... Cheers.’

Saboo smiles as they clink glasses, but he won’t meet Naboo’s eyes.

Naboo takes a deep breath. ‘Saboo...’

But he is interrupted by a squeal of feedback from the loudspeakers of the public address system. ‘Is this thing on?’ Dennis’s voice booms anxiously.

Dennis and Methuselah are standing hand-in-hand on the terrace in front of the house; Dennis is peering at the microphone in his hand as though afraid it might bite him. Methuselah whispers something in his ear, and he smiles. ‘Ah. Apparently it is. Ladies and gentlemen and all those in between – Friends – I bid you welcome.’

There is a short silence while the Head Shaman rummages through the pockets of his voluminous ceremonial robe and produces a crumpled handkerchief.

‘Ah.’ He wipes his brow and puts the handkerchief away again. ‘I had, um, written a substantial speech for this important occasion but I, er, seem to have mislaid my notes.’

‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ Saboo mutters.

‘But no matter. Now that I see you all, I realise that what I have to say is actually very simple.’

‘Like you, D-Man,’ Tony cackles.

A ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, but Dennis is unperturbed. ‘I am a simple man, yes. And I am simply very fortunate to have so many friends, and most fortunate of all to have such a beautiful and patient wife. My dear’ – he turns to her – ‘you were generous enough to give me a second chance. A new start. In token of which I would like to renew the vows we made when first we bound ourselves to each other – the vows I bent and broke and brushed aside – if you are willing – ’

He chokes a little. Naboo brushes away a tear.

_I was a part of that bending and breaking... I’m just glad I was part of the mending as well._

Methuselah puts a finger to Dennis’s lips. ‘Of course I will. A new start, yes. Leave the past in the past, and with all our friends to bear witness, let us remake our bond. Where is our Moderator?’

The ancient ex-Head Shaman shuffles forward to officiate.

_Just as well the secular ceremony is short and simple. Poor old sod doesn’t look as though he’d make it to the end of anything long and complicated. Needs a trip to the Fountain of Youth if you ask me._

Everybody cheers as Dennis and Methuselah seal their re-made bond, first with a formal kiss, and then with a much longer and more informal one.

 _I remember how that feels_...

Naboo sighs, and looks away. He can see Howard and Vince holding hands and smiling; Vince notices him watching them, and grins.

Then Methuselah takes the microphone and steps forward. ‘Thank you, Dennis. And thank you all for being with us. I will not waste much of your time. I know some of you have serious drinking to do, don’t you, Tony?’

She waits for the laughter and catcalls to subside. ‘We have one more announcement to make. Another new start. My Dennis and I, we are expecting our firstborn in the autumn...’

Whatever else she was going to say is drowned out by a burst of cheering and applause from the audience. Then the band is playing, the champagne is flowing, and Dennis, looking proud but slightly stunned, takes Methuselah’s arm and leads her around the garden, circulating through the crowd of guests, accepting their congratulations. Even Saboo is smiling.

Dennis looms up beside them; Naboo hugs him, hard. ‘Nice one, big man. Listen, lemme know anytime you need a babysitter.’

Saboo snorts derisively.

‘Seriously,’ Naboo says, giving Saboo the finger behind Dennis’s back, ‘I’m a bit of an expert, I ’ad to rear those two human idiots over there, remember? Six soddin’ weeks of changin’ nappies an’ four-hourly feeds before I found an incantation to get ’em back to their proper ages... so anytime, just call me, OK?’

‘Thank you,’ Dennis says gravely.

‘No worries.’ Naboo hugs him again. ‘So happy for ya...’

_Dennis feels big and warm and solid. He feels like coming home, like safety and comfort..._

Dennis takes a step back, and looks down; his voice is pitched for Naboo’s ears alone. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Dunno exactly.’ _There’s no point lying to someone who can see right through you, literally_.

‘Man trouble?’

‘Somefink like that.’

‘I thought so. Could see it from across the room.’

Naboo looks up into those knowing pale-blue eyes. ‘You got any magic to fix it?’

Dennis smiles gently. ‘You don’t need magic. It’s very simple, Naboo. Just ask him.’

Before he can explain what this pronouncement means – if he even knows himself – Dennis is hailed by someone else, and lets Naboo go.

 _Ask Saboo? Ask him what’s wrong? But he might deny that anything’s wrong at all, in which case he’d be lying, and then we’re stuffed; or worse, he might actually tell me what’s wrong, and it might be something that can’t be fixed_...

Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder. ‘Oh, dry up, you idiot, this is supposed to be a happy day.’ He snorts again. ‘Never thought the D-Man was parent material. Nor the D-Man’s woman, come to that.’

‘Just shows that even the perfect Saboo can be sometimes wrong,’ Methuselah says drily from right beside him, making him jump and look sheepish.

‘I’m sorry,’ he stammers, ‘I – I didn’t mean...’

Naboo winces, waiting for the inevitable blow to fall.

But she is laughing; patting Saboo on the arm. ‘I am not offended, I never thought of myself as mother, either. Even I can be sometimes wrong also. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to borrow your Naboo for a short while, there is something I need to discuss with him. No, not about last Christmas’ – she laughs again – ‘do not look so dismayed, I meant it when I said the past is in the past. I need to ask a favour, that is all. Naboo, if you will please come with me...’

‘Sure.’ Naboo shrugs. ‘Whatever.’

He thinks he hears Saboo mutter something at the same time: ‘he’s not mine,’ perhaps? But there’s no time to ask, Methuselah is taking his arm and leading him firmly out of the crowd.

‘Somewhere quiet,’ she says, ‘let us try the rose garden. This way.’

Naboo follows her through a gate in the hedge and across a green, sunlit lawn edged with flowering rosetrees.

 _I wonder what the fuck this is about. I know she said the past is past, but...We haven’t talked about that Christmas party, ever. Better try not to say the wrong thing, or she might lose it and hit me. My glass is empty, too... I wonder whether I’m going to get another drink or a decent smoke anytime soon_...

There’s a double seat under an archway at the far end, canopied with heavily scented climbing roses; Methuselah sits down and motions Naboo to sit beside her.

‘I know I said this was not to talk about last Christmas.’ She plucks a leaf, twirls it nervously between her slender fingers. ‘But... I do want to thank you, Naboo, thank you for saving our marriage, for showing my Dennis how to be honest with me.’

Naboo sighs inwardly with relief. _She’s not going to hit me, then_. ‘I’m glad I helped, but I didn’t really do anything.’

‘No.’ She shakes her head vehemently. ‘If it were not for you, we would be separated by now, and this baby that is on the way, he would not be on the way, he would not exist at all.’

‘That’s... quite a responsibility.’

‘It is also a wonderful gift.’ She is smiling now. ‘And in appreciation, we would like to ask you, will you stand mentor to our son when he is born?’

 _Well. Wasn’t expecting that one. That’ll offend a lot of well-connected Xooberon nobility who will have been hoping for the honour. And am I really up to the job? But if it’s Dennis’s choice_...

‘I – well, yes, course I will, but – there’s plenty of other shamen who’ll do a better job, I mean, I don’t even live on-planet and I’m not exactly...’

‘There is no other shaman who has such a link to our family. No-one else we would rather ask. You gave Dennis such good advice. I am certain you will do the same again when it is needed.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Naboo is slightly choked. _Must be the perfume from all those flowers_.

‘There is something else also.’

‘What?’

‘We would like to name him for you, if you have no objection.’

Naboo chews on his bottom lip. ‘Depends which name. The universe don’t need two Naboos, an’ I’m not bein’ mentor to a boy called Roppity-Poppity...’

‘But Randolph, that is a good name, a fine name.’

‘Yeah, that’d be OK, I s’pose.’

‘Thank you. It is settled, then.’ She puts a hand over her stomach. ‘Randolph it is.’ Then she giggles. ‘I am very pleased, but Dennis’s family will not be. They are so traditional, they disapprove of him marrying extreme sports calendar model, and every firstborn male is always named Dennis. Father, grandfather, great grandfather, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis... But not this time. This time, we break tradition... Oh.’ She catches her breath suddenly.

‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine. Just the baby kicking, I think he hears us. You want to feel him?’

‘Well, I –’ _I do want to feel, I want it very much indeed, contact with that small new life that is somehow in some weird way linked with mine. But touching the Head Shaman’s wife... might that be crossing the line?_

She grasps his wrist; places his hand on her belly. ‘There. Can you feel him?’

‘I can feel...’ _Yes. Yes. The kicking comes again, and oh, I can, I can feel it, can feel everything that’s going on in there, every twitch and heartbeat and... Blimey._

‘What is it?’ She’s looking anxiously into his face. ‘Naboo, what can you feel?’

With regret, he takes his hand away, and is surprised to find his cheeks are wet with tears.

‘I fink, you’re going to be able to make Dennis’s family happy too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his party robe. ‘There’s two in there. Twins. Two boys.’

Methuselah’s eyes are wide. ‘Are you certain?’

‘Absolutely. So you can call one of ’em Dennis after all. The big one.’

‘Dennis Junior and Randolph.’ She is laughing with sheer delight. ‘Randolph and DJ. Oh, Naboo, this is wonderful, we have to go and tell Papa Dennis right now.’

‘Make sure he’s sitting down first.’

‘Do you think your Saboo would stand mentor to DJ?’

‘Dunno. S’pose we could just ask him.’

 _Just **ask** him... oh, fuck, of course, how could I be such a blind numpty? I know what Dennis meant now, the question I’ve got to ask Saboo, should have asked him already really, cos he’s been waiting for me to ask it, and hopefully he’ll say yes to her **and** yes to me and then everything will be all right._..

‘Come on, then.’ Methuselah jumps to her feet.

Naboo takes her hand, and together they run back through the sunlit rose garden.


	10. Coda: Christmas Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince end up babysitting Dennis's twins while Naboo and Saboo do some last-minute Christmas shopping...

‘Daddy!’  
  
Howard stirs and mutters, not wanting to waken from his comfortable after-lunch doze on the sofa. A morning spent shopping with Vince is exhausting at any time of year, but when there are only two shopping days left till Christmas... The time limit focuses Howard’s mind, but it has the opposite effect on his husband’s, making him lose focus altogether, skittering randomly from one shop to another and getting distracted by each and every shiny object until he’s forgotten what he was shopping for, and Howard has to remind him, and carry the bags, and pay for it all because Vince can’t remember where he’s put his card, and then Vince runs out of energy and starts to flag pathetically, and Howard has to revive him with sugary coffee and cake.  
  
It’s a bit like having a small child. Not that Howard’s got any real experience to go on.  
  
Apart from this.  
  
‘Daddy Daddy Daddy!’ The penetratingly shrill cries come closer and closer.  
  
Then something pokes Howard in the knee.  
  
Reluctantly, Howard lifts his head from Vince’s shoulder, and opens his eyes.  
  
Two identical, very small people are standing on the rug, wearing identical blue sleepsuits and identical furious frowns.  
  
Vince giggles delightedly. ‘Hi, boys. Those are genius outfits. Are they new? Howard bought me a new outfit too, look, it’s got sequin cuffs, what d’you reckon?’  
  
The toddlers look profoundly unimpressed. ‘Daddy,’ they chorus, glaring at Howard.  
  
Howard sighs. ‘Do we have to go through this every single time you come to visit? I’m not your daddy, I’m Howard. Howard Moon.’  
  
‘Daddy,’ one the two insists.  
  
‘No, Howard,’ Howard says, with what he hopes is an expression of Monumental Italian Patience.  
  
‘No, Daddy.’  
  
‘No, How-ard... How – OW!’  
  
A tiny foot connects sharply with Howard’s shin.  
  
‘Hey.’ Vince can barely speak for giggles. ‘Don’t kick him. What’re you kickin’ him for?’  
  
‘Bad Daddy,’ the boys chorus in unison.  
  
‘I’m not – stop that!’ Howard scoops up one of the children. Perhaps if  - whichever one of them this is – sees Howard closely enough, he’ll realise his mistake.  
  
Howard realises his own mistake first, as two small hands grab his moustache and tug sharply. ‘Daddy face dirty.’  
  
‘Vince,’ Howard pleads, in between renewed assaults on his whiskers and a barrage of tiny kicks in the shins, ‘Vince, do something.’  
  
But Vince is lying back on the sofa cushions, spluttering helplessly.  
  
Eventually Howard manages to detach the toddler’s iron grip, and look him in the eye.  
  
Another mistake: a little bottom lip starts to tremble ominously. ‘Daddy eyes funny. Daddy put eyes back. Don’t like it. This lady not Mummy. Naughty Daddy. Daddy face gone wrong. Daddy make it right... Want Daddy!’  
  
The tiny voice has risen to a desolate wail; another one joins in, at knee level and exactly a flattened fifth out of tune.  
  
A small part of Howard’s brain manages to appreciate the microtonal complexities thus generated. The rest of Howard’s brain just wishes this would all stop and let him go back to sleep.  
  
‘Hey, little man.’ He does his best to sound reassuring. ‘I mean, little men. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s me, Howard. This is the same face I always have. And Vince isn’t a lady. Well, not all the time. I mean...’  
  
Vince shrieks with laughter and rolls right off the sofa; both little boys start to giggle too, and fling themselves on top of him.  
  
‘You – you – you fell for it,’ Vince gasps, high-fiving each child in turn. ‘We didn’t think you would, not again.’  
  
One little face grows suddenly serious. ‘Vince owe Mentor Naboo ten euros.’  
  
‘Yeah, I know, Randolph, but it was well worth it. You guys are just the best Christmas entertainment... No, DJ, you don’t need to kick him again... Aww, c’m’on Howard, surely even you can see the funny side. You should’ve seen your face.’  
  
‘You little – ’ Howard gets to his feet.  
  
Naboo and Saboo appear in the doorway as if by magic. Probably actually by magic: their shaman-senses highly attuned to any potential threat to the Head Shaman’s offspring.  
  
‘Angels,’ Howard says hastily, forcing a smile. ‘Little Christmas angels.’  
  
‘Mentor Naboo! Mentor Saboo!’ There’s a scurry of little feet, and the two shamen are enveloped in hugs.  
  
‘Wha’s goin’ on? It’s supposed to be nap time. Who got these two out of bed?’ Naboo glares at Howard, but it’s not scary at all, not after being glared at by the twins.  
  
‘Chill your boots, Naboolio, these two got themselves out of bed. An’ you won ten euros off me, an’ all.’ Vince is grinning.  
  
‘He never fell for it again?’ Saboo laughs heartily.  
  
‘He did too.’ Vince ruffles the nearest twin’s hair. ‘These two have a glitterin’ stage career in front of them, with actin’ skills like that.’  
  
‘No wonder they’ve got Dennis wrapped round their little fingers,’ Saboo mutters.  
  
‘Not just Dennis.’ Naboo wrinkles his nose and beams up at his partner.  
  
Saboo smiles back with undisguised affection. ‘Not just Dennis and not just me, either.’  
  
‘Yeah, well. Mentors’ privileges, an’ all that. We can get away with indulgin’ ’em a bit.’  
  
‘Seeing as we get to hand them back at teatime. That is, if Dennis doesn’t get carried away doing his Christmas shopping and forget he left them here.’  
  
‘Don’t be mean to the big man,’ Naboo protests. ‘He only forgot them that one time. He does his best.’  
  
‘Even if it is a bit rubbish.’  
  
‘Daddy  _not_  rubbish,’ the twins chorus in unison.  
  
Saboo nods solemnly to them. ‘You’re quite right. I stand corrected. Well, seeing as we’re all awake now –’ he looks pointedly at Howard, who is manfully trying to smother an enormous yawn ‘ – we might as well get on and get the Christmas tree up. If that’s all right with you people?’  
  
‘Course,’ Vince says warmly, and Howard nods his agreement (through yet another yawn) and smiles inwardly. Although this will be the fourth Christmas he’s spent here, Saboo still isn’t quite comfortable yet with the idea that he’s a permanent fixture in the flat rather than just a guest.  
  
‘Tree, tree, tree!’ the twins chorus excitedly, hopping up and down. ‘Where tree?’  
  
‘Bollo,’ Naboo calls, ‘you havin’ any luck with the Christmas stuff?’  
  
There’s a shuffle of heavy feet in the loft overhead, and a thud followed by a scraping sound.  
  
‘No,’ a muffled voice calls back.  
  
Naboo goes out to the landing and peers up through the open ceiling hatch. ‘Try behind the submarine. We never put it away properly after the last fishing trip.’  
  
‘OK boss. There’s some boxes right in the corner...’ A cloud of dust comes down through the hatch; there are more scrapings and shufflings. ‘This not good for Bollo’s asthma,’ the gorilla grumbles, as he passes down the little box with the magically expandable Christmas tree, followed by the big crate of decorations.  
  
‘That’s not good.’ Naboo peers into the crate. ‘Not good at all.’  
  
‘What’s up?’ Saboo asks, his arms full of magically expanded greenery. ‘Is that not the right box?’  
  
‘It’s the right box all right, it’s just... well, look.’ Naboo holds up a handful of threadbare, tatty fragments. ‘The mice have eaten the tinsel.’  
  
‘Mice don’t eat tinsel,’ Vince objects. ‘They’ve prob’ly made themselves little sparkly jackets, or maybe a nice sparkly nest. How cool would that be?’  
  
‘It wouldn’t, Vince, it would be warm. Tinsel’s a good insulator, you know,’ Howard tells him.  
  
‘Tinsel insulator?’ Vince looks thoughtful. ‘Sounds like a potential crimp to me.’  
  
‘Never mind that,’ Saboo snaps, ‘we can’t decorate the tree without it.’  
  
Hand in hand, the twins look from the bare tree to the frowning shamen and back again. Two tiny underlips start to tremble – for real this time.  
  
‘This is an emergency. We need tinsel and we need it now.’ Saboo looks hopefully at Bollo, who is sprawled on the sofa clutching his chest and wheezing.  
  
 ‘No way,’ Vince says. ‘Look at the state of him, he can’t go shopping, he won’t make it down the stairs. An’ don’t look at Howard an’ me, we were shopping hard all morning.’  
  
‘Yeah,’ Howard agrees hastily, ‘we’re all shopped out.’  
  
‘OK, fair enough... I suppose that means getting these chaps dressed, then,’ Saboo sighs.  
  
The twins hold hands even tighter; tears begin to well ominously in four tiny eyes.  
  
‘No worries,’ Vince says, ‘Howard and I can look after the twins for an hour or so.’  
  
 Naboo beams at him. ‘Thanks, you’re a diamond.’  
  
‘ _We_  know,’ Howard tells him drily.  
  
‘OK then.  _Two_  diamonds. Even if one of ’em is a bit rough.’ Naboo winks cheekily at Howard, and grabs a cloak from off the back of the sofa. ‘C’m’on, Saboo, let’s get goin’ before the humans change their minds.’  
  
*************  
  
By the time Dennis and Methuselah are sitting on the sofa in the flat, eating mince pies (assisted with enthusiastic inaccuracy by the twins) and admiring the tinsel-encrusted tree, Howard has learned many things.  
  
He has learned that the twins are accomplished mind-readers, whether those minds are each other’s or those of any supervising adults.  
  
He has learned that they are capable of doing  _everything_  in perfect synchrony.  
  
He has learned that they have magical abilities far beyond what you might expect for their age, and a tremendous appetite for chocolate in general and Nutella in particular.  
  
He has also learned that Vince is a complete genius with children.  
  
Vince never once lost his temper, not even after having to lose successive games of Snakes and Ladders, Connect Four, and Snap; not even when they’d sung ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ in its entirety three times; not even when the location of the emergency jar of Nutella had been ruthlessly wormed out of Howard by dire threats of synchronous and deliberate nappy-filling, threats that were ruthlessly and deliberately carried out...  
  
Howard shudders. He really hadn’t needed to see  _that._  
  
But Vince had just grinned, shrugged, and said ‘Well, it was inevitable at some stage,’ and then proceeded to give both boys what was evidently a hilarious bubble bath, leaving Howard to tidy up the scattered game pieces (careful not to disturb the inert Bollo, who had snored implausibly and peacefully through everything), put the blue suits in the washing machine, and hide the Nutella in a better place.  
  
And when two damp, clean and smiling toddlers reappeared in the lounge, with a damp, clean and smiling Vince in tow, they had miraculously forgotten all about the Nutella and were quite happy to sit on the sofa and watch old episodes of ‘Colobos the Crab’ until their Mentors returned with armfuls of tinsel, three boxes of crackers, two dozen mince pies, an iced cake, some holographic baubles and a set of new Christmas tree lights to boot.  
  
Then Howard learned just how much tinsel can be fitted on one tree. And how much fun that process can be...  
  
By the time the Head Shaman and his wife leave, laden down with presents and carrying two extremely sleepy sons, Naboo is yawning nearly as much as the twins are. He waves a final goodbye, and leans wearily against Saboo at the top of the stairs. ‘We did a good job on the decorations, didn’t we?’  
  
‘You forgot something,’ Saboo says with mock severity.  
  
‘We can’t have done. The boxes are all empty.’  
  
‘They weren’t. The mistletoe was right at the bottom.’ Saboo reaches up to the brim of the furry Santa hat he’d needed little persuasion to wear, and takes out a shrivelled bit of twig; attaches it solemnly to the lightshade.  
  
Naboo looks up and wrinkles his nose. ‘Bit rubbish, isn’t it?’  
  
‘Don’t knock it,’ Saboo says, very quietly. ‘It works fine.’  
  
His hands tangle into Naboo’s hair.  
  
Howard turns away and closes the lounge door silently. They’ll be out there for a while, no sense letting the flat get cold.  
  
Vince is sprawled on the sofa; Howard flops wearily down beside him.  
  
‘Alright, Howard?’ Vince’s smile shines brighter than the Christmas lights. He wriggles into Howard’s lap, and hugs him tight.  
  
‘Very much so, little man.’ Howard removes the crumpled remains of Vince’s paper hat, and buries his face in Vince’s clean hair, breathing in deep.  
  
The shamen don’t have the monopoly on Christmas magic.  
  
Nor do you really need mistletoe as an excuse for kissing...


End file.
